


give yourself to me

by BalrogSlayer



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, geralt is SOFT, jaskier demands to get what he deserves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalrogSlayer/pseuds/BalrogSlayer
Summary: When Jaskier gets hurt, Geralt blames himself and tries not to have feelings. Jaskier is not going to stand for that and demands to be treated the way he deserves.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 684





	1. the saving

As Jaskier came to, the first thing he became aware of was the darkness, scratchy fabric bound tight across his eyes, and then an ache in his shoulders. His hands must’ve been bound for a long time then. His throat was so dry there was no need for a gag, and his breath came ragged through parched lips. What had happened?

The last thing he remembered was being at a tavern… where was Geralt? Geralt had gone upstairs...for a bath! The witcher was having his bath and Jaskier had been...the memories were muddy. His songs had roused a large crowd and many people had bought him drinks.

How long had it been?

Jaskier tried to sit up, hissing as pain lanced through his shoulder and ribs. Nevermind that then. He ached all over. He hoped Geralt would come soon. Because Geralt would be coming. Jaskier knew it in his bones, he knew it like he had known he needed to follow the witcher all those years ago. Geralt would come for him.

Jaskier began to hum softly, trying to stay calm. 

Heavy footsteps and a hard kick followed fast, Jaskier letting out a ragged sound of pain.

“Keep screaming, bard, maybe it’ll bring the witcher faster. I want to get paid.”

The nasal voice laughed raucously, a rough hand reaching to pull Jaskier up by his hair into a sitting position. Jaskier whimpered at the strain on his bruised ribs, being upright just made him aware of how his whole body throbbed in agony. 

As the nasal man used the grip on his hair to expose his throat, they both jumped at the sound of a confrontation outside, the unmistakable whinnies of a horse and a sword coming unsheathed. Jaskier swallowed dryly a couple times, working up the energy for an exhausted, “good luck.”

And then he gave into the pain wracking his body and collapsed, once again unconscious on the cold stone floor, his last moments of awareness catching the sound of steel against steel outside.  
\---  
Geralt carried an unconscious Jaskier upstairs, shouldering into their room and kicking it shut behind him. He laid Jaskier on the bed, thinking to make quick work of his torn clothes and then getting the bard into the bath.

But looking down at his companion now…

He brushed a large hand through Jaskier’s dirty hair, pushing ever so gently through the strands, absently looking for injuries. But mostly he just looked at Jaskier. The arch of his brows, the curve of his nose, eyelashes still soft and delicate, the dryness of his lips-

Geralt grunted and broke his gaze. Jaskier’s jacket was long gone so he tugged his torn shirt up, gently persuading the bard’s lax arms through the sleeves and lifting him to get the shirt completely off. Pale, dirty skin took up all his attention as his gaze traced over soft pink nipples and the purple and yellow bruising spread across Jaskier’s ribs. Geralt growled, his thoughts turning dark and wishing he could punish the brigands a second time for daring to injure his lov-

Companion.

Jaskier’s boots were missing so the witcher unlaced his trousers and tugged them down. The bard began to shiver, but he did not wake. Geralt noted the bruises on his legs as he removed Jaskier’s smallclothes and lifted him up and towards the tub. 

As he lowered Jaskier into the steaming water, the bard made a choking noise and flailed abruptly. He slid out of Geralt’s arms and into the tub, making himself grunt with surprise and pain as he landed on fresh bruises. He made a loud whining noise, tired blue eyes wide with fear as he cowered in the water.

Finally he looked straight at Geralt, recognition softening his expression as he instantly relaxed, eyes sliding shut. Something warm and soft buried itself in Geralt’s stomach, seeing his bard trusting that he was safe with Geralt. He lifted a soaking rag and cupped Jaskier’s cheek in one rough palm, taking the utmost care to clean his friend’s face. He scrubbed at his hairline where grime had collected, across cheekbones, swiping gently at Jaskier’s parted lips. Geralt paused, relief finally setting in. Jaskier was safe. Right here tucked away from the world with the best bodyguard. The witcher’s mood soured. If he were the best bodyguard then the bard would never have been taken.

When Geralt didn’t continue, Jaskier opened his eyes once more. He took in his friend’s pinched expression and swallowed to wet his throat.

“Geralt, thank you.”

“Hm.”

Jaskier snorted, suddenly coughing harshly. Geralt raised a cup to his lips, holding until Jaskier could take no more.

The witcher continued washing gently.

Jaskier’s mind was caught between melting at Geralt’s attentions just as the rest of his body did and his racing thoughts. Having Geralt take such delicate and thorough care of him was almost overwhelming. His heart ached, and hot tears brimmed behind his closed eyes.

Geralt eased his bard forward, until Jaskier’s face was pressed against the witcher’s neck. Geralt ran the soapy rag in circles across pale shoulders, down the dip of Jaskier’s spine. Pressed close, Geralt took deep, steady inhales of the bard’s scent, finally calm and happy. As he continued washing, Geralt suddenly became aware of the smell of salt in the air. Brows furrowing, he dropped the rag with a splash and cradled the bard’s jaw in one palm, leaning back just enough to see his face.

Jaskier’s blue eyes stared back at him, made more intense by the reddening around them and the wet clumping of his long eyelashes. Geralt rumbled low in his chest, pressing his forehead to the bard’s, his other hand rising to cup the back of Jaskier’s neck. 

Jaskier’s breaths steadied, the reminder of his safety pressed against his face and filling his chest with warmth. 

“Geralt, never ever let me get kidnapped again. It might make for a good song but look at my bruises! The women at court prefer a man who sings of his adventures, not one who wears them like embroidered robes!”

At the mention of his bruises, Jaskier noticed Geralt tense, hand lowering from the bard’s jaw to trace the purple and yellowing against his pale skin. He caught the witcher’s rough fingers in his.

“Hey, none of that. I knew you would come for me. Even though most days you probably wish I had never followed you and everyone says that witchers have no emotions but I know you could never leave an innocent behind-” Geralt covered Jaskier’s running mouth with a wide hand.

“You’re hardly an innocent, Jaskier. And I don’t. Wish that.” Orange eyes slid sideways, heat rising in the witcher’s face. 

Wide blue eyes crinkled in amusement, “so you’re saying your life would be dull and lonely without me? You’re right, witcher! Not to mention you’d still be getting thrown out of inns, spit on in the streets, unsatisfied in the sheet-mmph!”

Geralt’s lips pressed firmly against Jaskier’s, lingering and then breaking away.

“You do not need to remind me of the joys you have brought to my life, nor the debts I owe you, I think on them often,” the witcher murmured, guiding the bard back to his mouth. 

With a soft noise, Jaskier melted into his friend’s embrace, mouths moving together like missing pieces finally reunited. After a moment Jaskier wriggled away, panting.

“Geralt, if this is some kind of payment, I don’t want it. Not like this,” he shook his head, jaw clenching stubbornly, “not like this.”

Jaskier was lifted abruptly, strong arms carrying him to the bed and wrapping him in the witcher’s warm cloak. Fingers scrabbling at broad shoulders, Jaskier’s gaze locked onto Geralt’s. His copper bright eyes burned with intensity.

“I need you, Jaskier. I couldn’t let them have you, you’re mine.”

The bard was frozen for a moment, and uncharacteristically silent. Then his blue eyes sparkled and his grin shone. 

“It’s about time you realized, witcher. I’ve been waiting on you forever.”

“Hm.”


	2. the wooing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what jaskier wants

Geralt eased his bard back, tucking the cloak around his back and arms to keep the warmth in. Jaskier snuggled against the blankets, bared amongst them for Geralt. The witcher took a long moment just to look at the man he loved. He pressed a deep kiss to soft lips, then began making his way across Jaskier’s jawline, mouthing down his throat. Jaskier’s eager fingers tangled in white hair, breaths coming loud through his mouth. Geralt lingered over Jaskier’s shoulders, pulling back and working his hands under the bard’s back to massage the tender muscles. Jaskier melted further, head tipping back against the mattress and whimpering. 

As his fingers gentled Jaskier’s pain, Geralt’s mouth lingered over his bard’s heart. He breathed deeply, scenting Jaskier’s happiness and the beginnings of arousal. With an insistent tug on his handful of hair, Jaskier urged Geralt back up for a kiss. His other hand fitted against the witcher’s chin, controlling the deep, slow pace of it. After a few minutes Geralt nipped at full lips, grunting frustratedly. 

Jaskier laughed, breaking their long kisses, “go on then, continue worshipping me, it’s what I deserve.” 

Pressing one last kiss to his beloved’s mouth, Geralt ducked back down and nuzzled against a soft, pink nipple. It peaked as Jaskier shivered, the witcher’s stubble creating a delicious friction. Geralt continued his way down, pausing over the bruises before peppering them with gentle, remorseful kisses. He looked up at Jaskier, blue eyes soft and pupils blown wide. 

“Keeping going, Geralt, I’m certainly not getting any younger waiting for you to forgive yourself.”

“Should’ve been there sooner. Shouldn’t have left you alone.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, “just make sure the only bruises I have from here on out are bruises you give me, witcher.”

A growl punched itself out of Geralt, his burning eyes locking on Jaskier’s laughing ones as his grip on the bard tightened. Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat at the dull throb of pain under Geralt’s fingers. Senses heightened and tasting Jaskier’s discomfort, Geralt loosened his grip but made sure to spread his fingers to cover more of the man under him. His tongue dipped across hip bones, nipping kisses pressed against a pale and trembling belly, until he nosed his way down the trail of dark hair leading to Jaskier’s leaking cock. He pushed his legs apart, easing each calf to rest on a shoulder. For a moment, he pressed his face into the crease of Jaskier’s thigh, breathing him in. Watching quietly, Jaskier ran nimble fingers through coarse, white hair. When he was ready, Geralt tipped Jaskier’s hips up and swallowed him down.

“Fucking-fuck-gods, Geralt, don’t stop!”

The witcher growled, and Jaskier echoed him, tossing his head back and forth. Geralt pulled back and pressed his lips against the head, then tongued his way down to the base of Jaskier’s cock. He moved with increasing desperation, taking his lover deeper with soft, distressed noises. With a sharp tug on his hair, he suddenly became aware that Jaskier was calling his name.

“Geralt, darling, come here, come here,” Jaskier made grabby hands at him and Geralt was weak with obedience. He let himself be pulled back to Jaskier’s mouth, pressing the strong line of his body into the bed. Jaskier rocked his hips up and Geralt was suddenly aware of how hard he was, his own pleasure previously ignored in the face of wanting to make Jaskier understand how Geralt felt. 

“Geralt, please tell me you still have that chamomile balm,” Jaskier shoved his shoulders back so Geralt could see the desire in his open face. Loathe to leave his lover alone but warm with the suggestion, Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s calf and prowled to his pack. Turning back to the bard, balm in hand, Geralt’s mouth ran dry at the long curve of his spine, the soft roundness of his ass bared all for the witcher’s taking. In a moment he was spooning up behind Jaskier, growling and nuzzling into the back of his neck, one arm sliding under to pillow Jaskier’s head on his bicep and the other sliding under the bard’s arm, sword-calloused palm open and pressed over Jaskier’s heart. Jaskier uncorked the balm, pulling at Geralt's hand and helping him slick up his index finger. The bard bent his leg, bracing his knee on the bed and opening himself for Geralt’s questing finger. He eased in gently, working at the tight muscle steadily. The witcher pulled Jaskier’s ear lobe into his mouth, his grumbling causing Jaskier to shake and tighten around the finger pressing inside. 

Jaskier cried out as Geralt pressed into an electrifying spot inside, his hand reaching down to close around his own cock as Geralt kept pressing, easing on and off. The bard snarled at the tease, “get the fuck on with it, Geralt, you know what I want.”

The witcher pulled his hand away and opened his palm for another handful of herby-smelling balm. Slicking himself up, he took a moment to stroke himself, staring at where Jaskier’s thighs opened for him and following the long line of his body up to furious blue eyes glaring at him over a smooth shoulder.

“Peace, bard. I won’t disappoint.”

He stopped Jaskier’s upcoming tirade by pushing his lover’s knee higher with his own, and guiding his thick cock into the bard. He went slow, giving him time to adjust. His teeth found purchase in the meat of Jaskier’s shoulder once he was fully seated, wrapping his arm gingerly around his bruised torso and beginning to thrust. Jaskier laughed, gasping, one hand latching onto Geralt’s wrist as the other continued stroking himself. Bright gold eyes watched the bard’s quick pace, watching him get wet with need. The witcher’s hips churned, seeking out Jaskier’s prostate and huffing in satisfaction when he hit the right angle, Jaskier’s pace stuttered and his bard sang out beautifully. Geralt kept his pace, as Jaskier moaned praise for his witcher stamina. Jaskier’s sweaty hand slipped from its death grip on Geralt’s wrist and shot down to tug at his balls, moans sweetly climbing higher until his spine arched and release found him.

After a moment or perhaps a thousand moments, Jaskier became aware of Geralt growling fervently in his ear. Words like mine, safe, need, beautiful, love. Love? Jaskier whined and shoved at Geralt, rolling as the witcher pulled out and then yanking him back down with a handful of long hair. His thighs locked around Geralt’s thick chest as his witcher slid home once more. One arm wrapped under Jaskier’s hips, tipping him up and open, the other supporting his back and gripping tight to the back of his neck, Geralt pushed his nose into the space behind Jaskier’s ear, growling non-stop now. 

“I love you,” Jaskier breathed against Geralt’s temple, “Geralt, please, I love you, won’t you give yourself to me?”

Hips stuttering, Geralt spilled into his beloved bard. Jaskier caressed broad, sweaty shoulders as Geralt’s hips thrust lazily, coming down slowly from his release. Minutes passed, Geralt slipped out of Jaskier with a grunt and rolled sideways to avoid crushing his injured friend. Jaskier’s head fell to the side, watching the satisfied smirk Geralt wore. Jaskier snorted and shoved gently at his shoulder. 

Geralt stood and retrieved the wet cloth, returning to gently clean Jaskier and then himself. When he finished, he let Jaskier cuddle up behind him on the bed, long arms wrapping around Geralt’s waist and his knee slipping between Geralt’s strong thighs. He hummed softly, face pressed between the White Wolf’s shoulder blades and he almost missed the grumbled, “love you.”

Jaskier grinned into warm skin, “yes well, let’s hear you say it again when I demand to ride Roach for the next week while I heal.”

“Hm. Fuck.”


End file.
